They Never Loved Me. Now I Don’t Remember Them. Chapter 01

On the day I turned eighteen, I was diagnosed with progressive amnesia.

Little by little, I would forget everyone.

Eventually, I would even forget myself.

When I got home, my parents forced me to hand over my grandmother’s oval keepsake locket to Bianca, the daughter they had adopted.

“Isabella, you’re the older sister,” Mom said. “Let your sister have it. Stop fighting with Bianca over everything. We’re sick of it.”

I nodded.

Then I went back to my room and cried all night.

But when I woke up the next morning, I couldn’t remember why my pillow was wet.

That afternoon, I saw my fiancé, Matteo De Santis.

I told him about my diagnosis.

Instead of believing me, he looked at me with even greater disgust.

“Progressive amnesia? Seriously, Isabella? Are you pretending to be sick just to get my attention?”

His words brought tears to my eyes.

But the next day, when Matteo snapped at me across the breakfast table, I only stared at him blankly.

“Who are you?”

I was forgetting things faster and faster.

Then, that evening, Matteo took me for a drive.

He drove into the Cinder District, rival-controlled territory notorious for disappearances and human trafficking, then pulled over.

“Isabella, grab something from the trunk.”

I obediently got out.

Matteo hit the gas.

As the car sped away, he rolled down the window and sneered.

“Maybe this will teach you to stop acting out. Stay here and think about what you’ve done.”

Then he drove off.

I stood alone in the street, my mind completely blank.

I wanted to go home.

But I couldn’t remember where home was.

By the time the Rinaldis realized something was wrong, and by the time Matteo tore the city apart looking for me—

I had truly disappeared.

…

Ever since I was diagnosed with progressive amnesia, I’d started keeping a memory journal.

While I could still remember things, I wrote down what I needed to do the next day.

I opened it and checked yesterday’s entry.

Day Seven of My Fading Memory. I think I’m forgetting things faster now.

Stop loving Matteo De Santis.

Mom and Dad won’t give me money for college. Remember to be at the restaurant by ten for my summer shift. Address: [confirmed restaurant address].

There were a few more lines underneath, but the ink had run and I couldn’t make them out.

Maybe it had been my tears.

I just couldn’t remember why I’d cried.

I didn’t dwell on it.

No one cared about me anyway.

I put the memory journal away and got ready for work.

Downstairs, I heard my parents, Bianca, and a man I didn’t recognize laughing in the sitting room.

I froze for a few seconds before remembering that the man was my fiancé Matteo.

The disgust on his face was unmistakable.

“Get over here and apologize to Bianca.”

I looked at him blankly.

Matteo’s expression darkened.

“Your parents gave Bianca that locket yesterday, so you burned her with a filtered cigarette over it?”

“Isabella, how can you be so vicious?”

I looked at Bianca’s arm.

A small adhesive dressing was wrapped around her wrist.

I couldn’t remember burning her.

Mom lost patience and shoved me.

“What is wrong with you? Apologize! Stop pretending you don’t know what you did!”

I stumbled back two steps.

My knee slammed into the low wooden coffee table.

Pain shot through me, and I nearly collapsed.

Matteo caught me.

But the moment I regained my balance, he let go.

Then he wiped his hand with a linen handkerchief and looked at me coldly.

“Apologize.”

Before I could say anything, Dad picked up the filtered cigarette from the glass ashtray and walked toward me.

“If you don’t remember what you did,” he said, “maybe this will jog your memory.”

I stared at him.

“Dad—”

He grabbed my arm and pressed the burning end into my skin.

“Ah!”

I screamed.

The smell of scorched flesh filled the room. Tears burst from my eyes as I struggled, but Dad held me there for another second before letting go.

My skin was already blistering.

“Now you know how your sister felt.”

No one said a word.

Mom didn’t stop him.

Neither did Matteo.

Bianca just watched me cry.

I couldn’t remember whether I’d actually hurt her.

And I had no proof that I hadn’t.

So I lowered my head.

“I’m sorry.”

My voice shook.

“I didn’t mean to burn you.”

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

Bianca smiled.

“It’s fine. I’ll forgive you this time. But if it happens again—”

“If it happens again, you’re out,” Mom cut in.

“You can go straight back to wherever you were before we found you. Don’t ever set foot in this house again.”

Then she waved me away.

“That’s enough. Go. Just looking at you is giving me a headache.”

My nose stung, but I forced the tears back.

I told myself that once college started, I could get away from this house.

Maybe things would be better then.

I had barely taken two steps when Bianca called after me.

“Isabella. Wait.”

I stopped.

“One more thing.”